


Transparent

by mayangel7



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, Growing Up, I promise, M/M, NCT Dream - Freeform, Neighbors, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-05-19 07:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19351954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayangel7/pseuds/mayangel7
Summary: As different as Donghyuck and Mark are, they've managed to stay friends for so long because there are no secrets between them. Donghyuck can tell at a glance whether Mark is happy, sad, or angry. So when Donghyuck falls in love with Mark, he isn't shy about expressing his feelings, and Mark isn't subtle about breaking his heart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is inspired by Harlem Yu's Gap, which I think captures Markhyuck's dynamics really well.

Donghyuck is nine years old when he first cries because of Mark.

It’s not often that Donghyuck and Mark’s recesses will overlap. Sometimes, when Donghyuck’s class is led single-file to the playground, Mark will already be in a soccer game with other fifth graders. Other times, Mark’s class will arrive just minutes before the fourth graders are called in from recess.

But even when Donghyuck does see Mark at recess, they rarely get a chance to play together. Donghyuck knows better than to follow Mark around and ask for his attention. Because he’s done that before, and Mark just brushed him off while Mark’s friends laughed at him and it had _hurt_ even if Donghyuck pretended like it didn’t. 

So Donghyuck comes up with other strategies instead. Things like: barging onto the soccer field and joining the game, hanging from the jungle gym with other fourth and fifth graders, or running for the swings and ignoring Mark Lee. It just so happens that, on this chilly day near the end of autumn, Donghyuck sees Mark half swallowed up in a bright orange jacket, and something in him burns for acknowledgement. 

“Hey, Mark,” Donghyuck calls, walking over to where Mark and a few of his friends are peering at a pile of pine cones on the ground. Mark looks up, his eyes wide and cheeks slightly pink from the cold. “What kind of jacket is that?” Donghyuck hears laughter and it pushes him to keep going, even though Mark isn’t laughing, isn’t even half smiling like usual. “I can’t believe that you’d wear something so ugly that even my grandpa—” 

The laughter is louder now, but Donghyuck is close enough that he can see the way Mark’s bottom lip is trembling like he’s about to cry. Donghyuck freezes mid-sentence, knowing that he’s done something wrong but not knowing how to undo it. Mark doesn’t give him a chance; he shoves Donghyuck, hard, and starts running away. 

Donghyuck falls backwards, branches and tree roots digging into his palm as he breaks his fall. He barely registers the pain through his daze of surprise. Somehow, Donghyuck manages to get back up and chase after Mark. He almost draws level when they pass the jungle gym. “Mark!” 

Mark whirls around—and he is crying, but he also looks angry, angrier than Donghyuck has ever seen him. “Don’t talk to me again,” he says. “I _hate_ you.” 

This time, when Mark starts running again, Donghyuck doesn’t bother to chase after him. Instead, he sits down and watches the ground below his feet blur before his eyes. Once he stars crying, he can’t seem to stop, the tears streaming down his face almost as quickly as he wipes them away. That’s how his teacher finds him when recess ends, sitting alone at the edge of the playground.

“What’s wrong, Donghyuck?” Samantha asks, sitting on the ground in front of him. “Did someone hurt you? Your hands are bleeding.” She takes Donghyuck’s hands in her own and looks at Donghyuck with such kindness that he feels a fresh wave of tears.

“I’m a bad person,” Donghyuck chokes out around a sob. He doesn’t understand why Mark had taken his teasing so hard this time around, but he does know that it was his own fault. And maybe this is really the end. Mark will never want to talk to Donghyuck again, and Donghyuck will never be able to face either of their parents, and Mark will never want to be friends with Donghyuck, ever—because why would he, after all, when Donghyuck is just an annoying fourth grader.

“You’re not a bad person,” Samantha says, brushing away some tears from Donghyuck’s cheeks. “Come on, let’s take you to the nurse and get you cleaned up.” 

“Thank you, Samantha.” Donghyuck gets up, letting her guide him with a hand around his wrist. 

“You’re welcome, Hyuck.” Samantha smiles down at him, then puts on her serious voice as they approach the school. “Listen, if you did something wrong, you should apologize, okay? We all make mistakes.” 

Donghyuck nods, even though he doesn’t see how he can apologize when Mark had said to never talk to him again.

 

Usually, Donghyuck would be running to see Mark in the carpool line, especially if they hadn’t seen each other at recess. This time, Donghyuck trails silently behind Mark, staring at the back of the older boy’s head as he resolves not to start crying again.

Mark’s mom greets them happily when they get into the car. “Mark, Donghyuck, I picked up some girl scout cookies earlier,” she says, turning around to hand it to them. “Put on your seatbelts first." 

“Thanks Mom,” Mark says, and Donghyuck echoes his “thanks” a second later.

Donghyuck loves thin mints, and normally he’d say so, but he simply takes two cookies from the box and hands the rest to Mark wordlessly. 

They chew on their cookies while a pop song plays on the radio. Mark pulls out a book from his backpack and starts flipping through the pages. As they pull onto the main road, Mark’s mom glances at them through the rearview mirror.

“Why are you boys so quiet today?” 

They’re never quiet in the car. Even if Mark has homework to finish or if he’s just tired, they’ll always end up talking about _something_ or at least arguing halfheartedly.

Donghyuck looks over at Mark, who doesn’t raise his head from the book as he answers. “I’m reading, Mom.” 

“Where’s your jacket, Marks?” she asks in a teasing tone, and normally Donghyuck would jump into the teasing. Donghyuck swallows and stares out the side window. 

“It’s in my backpack,” Mark says shortly. He flips a page in his book loudly.

“Why aren’t you wearing it?” his mother presses. “It’s so cold outside.” 

Mark doesn’t answer her question immediately, and Donghyuck holds his breath in the silence that follows. There’s no reason why Mark shouldn’t tell on him, but Mark has always been better at not voicing his thoughts. “I didn’t want to,” is what he says, in the end.

Donghyuck’s eyes sting for no apparent reason. He leans his forehead against the cushioned inside of the car door to hide the tears that fall down his cheeks. 

 

The icy silence between Mark and Donghyuck remains for the rest of the week. Mark’s mom notices, and she tries to engage the two of them in conversation when they get in her car. Donghyuck’s dad drives them in the mornings, and he doesn’t seem to notice. Mark is completely unyielding; he doesn’t even look at Donghyuck once. But no one else knows what happened for days, and that’s when Donghyuck realizes that this is somehow much, much worse than all their fights in the past.

Their fights have always been dramatic but short. Before the day was over, their parents would get them to apologize and make up to each other. This time, it takes Jeno knocking on the door for Donghyuck to cave.

“I can’t play outside,” he tells Jeno, who has his elbow pads and knee pads on, his bike half learning onto the lawn. “Mark might come out too.” 

Jeno frowns. “Why can’t Mark play with us?” 

“Because.” Donghyuck kicks at the door frame. “He’s still mad at me.” 

“Why is he mad at you?” Jeno pulls on Donghyuck’s hand when he doesn’t answer. “Tell me, Hyuck.” 

“Because I teased him about the jacket he was wearing and he got mad at me and told me not to talk to him again, and now you’re going to play with him instead, and—”

“I’m not going to do anything,” Jeno says softly, and Donghyuck draws in a loud, shaky breath. Jeno stares at Donghyuck steadily. “We’re going to cross the street and knock on Mark’s door, and you’re going to tell Mark.” 

Donghyuck tries to protest; it’s the last thing he wants to do. But what Jeno Lee wants, Jeno Lee gets, so they end up crossing the street to knock on Mark’s house.

Donghyuck half hides behind Jeno, peering around him a bit fearfully when Taeyong opens the door. “Hey, are you guys looking for Mark?” When both of them nod, he opens the door wider. “Come on in,” he says, before walking further into the house. “Mark! Your friends are downstairs.” 

For once, Donghyuck doesn’t head straight for the kitchen, where he knows that there’s always some snack on the counter or in the fridge. Instead, he hovers by the door, almost afraid to fully enter the house despite the harsh wind outside. It certainly doesn’t help that Mark doesn’t look happy to see them.

“I can’t ride my bike today,” Mark says, in lieu of a greeting. “I have to finish my social studies fair project and—” 

“Can you shut up?” Jeno catches Donghyuck’s hand when he starts to turn towards the front door. “Donghyuck has something to say to you.” 

Donghyuck looks up, and Mark finally meets his eyes. For a moment, neither of them speaks—even now, they’re still so terribly stubborn. Donghyuck breaks first. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice coming out as barely more than a whisper, and yet it strains his throat more than if it had been a scream. “I’m sorry for teasing you that day.” 

Donghyuck doesn’t look up to see Mark’s reaction, but he does feel the warmth when Mark steps forward to hug him—unbidden, for once. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Donghyuck’s ear, and Donghyuck can’t hold in the sob that shakes his body. It’s gross, but Mark only holds onto him tighter. “I don’t hate you, Hyuck. I’m sorry.”


	2. Chapter 2

Donghyuck is ten years old when things begin to fall apart.

One morning, Donghyuck’s mom is supposed to drive Donghyuck and Mark to school so that Donghyuck’s dad can get to his office early to finish up some work. Donghyuck is still looking for matching socks when his mom bursts into his room and pulls him into a hug. She’s crying, he realizes, rubbing her back in alarm. She’s crying harder than he’s seen her cry before.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” he asks quietly, once his mother has pulled back.

She grabs the box of Kleenexes from Donghyuck’s desk to wipe her tears. “Your father—he got into a car accident just now.” 

Donghyuck takes one of his mother’s hands, which is still shaking violently. “Is he okay?” 

His mother nods, breathing out slowly. “He’s not badly injured, he’s going to the hospital to get checked up.” She clasps her other hand over Donghyuck’s. “I was so scared.” 

Mark’s mom ends up driving them to school that day and picking them up. His dad, Donghyuck learns in the afternoon, had hurt his back and was getting therapy. He’d been hit by a teenage driver turning left and cutting through three lanes, miscalculating and slamming into the side of his car. Thankfully neither of them had been going that fast, or it could have been much, much worse. As it stands, their Camry is totaled, but insurance covers most of the costs.

A week after that, Donghyuck learns that the little sister he’d been looking forward to won’t be coming anymore. He sees tears in his mother’s eyes when he asks her one night and knows he won’t ever ask again. There are no more excited plans for a new nursery, no more talks with his mother’s tummy in the evening, no more playful arguments between his parents about the baby’s name.

Donghyuck’s mother kisses him good night and whispers, “Everything will be okay,” as she tucks him in.

But the next month, as winter melts into spring, his father’s company goes bankrupt and he gets laid off—like getting fired, Donghyuck learns, only it wasn’t your fault. It feels like their home loses all of its laughter, then, and Donghyuck is kept awake by the murmurs of his parents’ serious conversations late into the night.

One afternoon, after Donghyuck finishes practicing the piano, his mom knocks on the door with a plate of fruit. “Donghyuck, sweetie, how are you?” 

“Good, Mom.” As Donghyuck eats a slice of cantaloupe, he excitedly tells his mom about school, about getting a hundred on his vocab quiz and finding a worm outside during recess. His mom smiles, but he can tell that she’s only half listening, the thing that adults do when they have something important to say. “What’s wrong?” he eventually asks, taking another slice of cantaloupe. 

She blinks, surprised, and Donghyuck watches the expression play out on her features. There had been a time when people would mistake her to be Donghyuck’s older sister, but he thinks that won’t happen now. So when his mom asks him about quitting piano lessons and selling the piano, he agrees without getting upset.

It’s only later that night, after dinner is over and his parents have gone into their rooms, that Donghyuck sits down at the piano and lifts the cover. He stares at the keys without touching them, not daring to play. His father hates being disturbed at night, and he’d seemed in a worse mood than usual today.

The funny thing about this is that there had been a time when Donghyuck really, really wanted to quit piano. When he started learning, before even entering elementary school, his legs had dangled far above the pedals. He’d hated having to practice, having to stay indoors while his friends were playing outside. But if Donghyuck was stubborn, then his mother was even more stubborn, so he would grudgingly finish his half-hour of practice. These days, Donghyuck can sit down and practice for two, three hours, perfecting small fragments of his piece and stringing them together. It’s all worth it when the fragments fit into a complete picture, and the many trophies he’s received at competitions are a welcome bonus.

Not having to play piano at least means that Donghyuck can spend more time on the roof. He scales the brick wall extending from their open garage, the top of the wall just wide enough that Donghyuck can balance and step onto the roof. Sometimes he does his homework there; other times he just stares at the sky. It’s a nice place to retreat when his parents start fighting about money again, which seems to be all they do.

Even though their fights aren’t so much about money as they are about pride. Now that his father doesn’t have a job anymore, they’re living in a house that they can’t afford. His father wants to sell the house and use the money leftover from paying off the mortgage to tide them over. His mother refuses to move from the “best neighborhood in the city,” citing high crime rates and poor living conditions in the neighborhoods that they can afford. She would rather borrow money from her family in the meantime, a suggestion that always makes Donghyuck’s father sigh in exasperation.

They’ve already sold their beach house, which is one of the best places to spend summer vacation, and Donghyuck can't help worrying about what would be next to go. The realization of just how nice their life was and how quickly they could lose it doesn’t come easy. 

It’s scary, scarier than Ms. Hingle’s disapproving stares from next door, scarier than the prospect of Mark forgetting him now that he’s in middle school.

Donghyuck contemplates this as they’re waiting for Mark’s mom to pick them up. Mark had walked over from the middle school next door, which lets out just five minutes earlier. He’s staring down at the new phone that he’d gotten just a few weeks ago, texting someone and ignoring Donghyuck. Usually, Donghyuck would be trying to peek at the screen—more to annoy Mark into paying attention to him than out of any real curiosity.

“Hey, Donghyuck.” Donghyuck turns to see one of the boys from Carl’s class stand next to him in the carpool line. “What’s wrong with your shoes? Did your dog try to eat them?” 

Donghyuck stares down at his sneakers, where there are two holes near the top of his left foot. One of them is big enough that the bright yellow of his socks peeks through. Dimly, he can hear laughter around him, can feel the delight from the kids in the face of abnormality. 

It makes Donghyuck’s face burn, mostly because he can’t seem to come up with a reply fast enough. Which is weird because Donghyuck _always_ has something to say. He has a sharp tongue, and every fifth grader in the school knows.

Yet as he looks at this kid’s face twisted by derision, all he can think about is that if he doesn’t want to be at school and he doesn’t want to be at home, then there’s nowhere he can go. 

Mark pulls on Donghyuck’s hand, startling him out of his thoughts. “Come on, let’s go,” he says, leading Donghyuck towards his mom’s car. 

Mark only lets go of Donghyuck to open the car door. He doesn’t say anything about what had happened, and Donghyuck doesn’t either. 

That Saturday morning, his mother puts a box in front of Donghyuck as he’s finishing his cereal. “I found this outside our door. It has your name on it.” 

His name Donghyuck is written in black Sharpie across the top of the box. It’s too messy to be an adult’s, the letters blurring together and their shapes uneven. Donghyuck already has an idea of what’s inside before he even opens the box. 

The pair of Nike sneakers is brand new, a bright red color that Donghyuck would never choose himself. Donghyuck immediately takes out the tissue paper and tries them on, his mom helping him with the laces.

“Did you figure out how to order shipping services on a weekend?” she asks, laughing as he starts running around the breakfast table. 

Donghyuck grins. “Maybe.” 

 

“Hey, Donghyuck!” Mark calls, when they’re all playing basketball in his driveway later that afternoon. “Nice shoes.” 

Donghyuck turns, catching the ball that Mark passes to him. “Thanks,” he calls back.

He jumps and tosses the basketball, watching it fly in a perfect arc. It falls down into the hoop, swishing the net before it bounces onto the ground, but Donghyuck still feels like he’s soaring in the air, limitless.


	3. Chapter 3

Donghyuck is eleven when he falls from the roof.

It’s not a bad fall, so Donghyuck only breaks his leg. Still, it means that he’s given a wheelchair and is confined to his bed during Mark’s birthday party. His bedroom faces the street, so he can see Mark and his friends playing in the fake snow on the front lawn, the snow-making machine replacing the snow as it melts. Donghyuck can hear the screams of laughter all the way in his room, and they only die down when all the kids go back into Mark’s house.

Donghyuck turns back to the book open on his lap without actually reading any of the words. The house is too quiet, almost eerily slow. His father is at work and won’t be returning until later. Donghyuck rarely gets to see him anymore, but it’s better than the days that he would see him at home all the time and his father would be in a bad mood. His mother is probably outside, gardening. The restlessness itches under Donghyuck’s skin; being confined to the second floor of his house during the summer is almost too much to bear.

 _Almost_ , because then Mark is knocking on the door with a slice of cake in his hand.

“What are you doing here?” Donghyuck says, sitting up. He’d been dozing off, not really expecting Mark to show up.

“I brought you cake,” Mark says, handing the plate to Donghyuck and getting into the bed next to him.

“Is the party over already?” Donghyuck asks around a mouthful of cake. His mother probably wouldn’t approve of him eating sweets in bed, but then, this is Mark Lee’s twelfth birthday cake.

“The afternoon part. Jeno and Hendery are staying the night.” Mark reaches for the remote control by Donghyuck’s bed and turns on the TV. “Do you want to play a game?”

Donghyuck nods, pointing to where the controllers are. The small TV is usually in the front room, but his mom had taken mercy on him this week and moved it into his room. As Mark goes to get them, Donghyuck briefly wonders if Mark had wanted to come here or if his mom had made him come. Mark doesn’t look super happy to be here, but Donghyuck guesses that nothing can trump fake snow in the summer. “Did you open my present?” Donghyuck asks, taking the controller that Mark hands him.

“I haven’t opened the presents yet. What did you get me?”

Donghyuck shrugs, selecting a race track. “You’ll have to find out.”

He almost expects Mark to ask again, but Mark just gives up, looking almost sulky as he says, “Fine.”

Donghyuck laughs at the clear disappointment on Mark’s face, and it almost makes him cave. His mom had been the one to pick Mark’s present, really, since Donghyuck had wanted to buy Mark the Dude game. They’d ended up compromising by getting mark a large remote-controlled car with a half serious, half silly letter from Donghyuck.

Instead, Donghyuck leans over and kisses Mark’s cheek as the game starts loading. Mark reacts a whole second too late, reaching out as though to push Donghyuck away. He stops himself mid motion, seeming to remember that Donghyuck is injured. Interestingly enough, both of Mark’s cheeks are bright red. “What was that for!” 

“You can’t escape your birthday kiss.” Donghyuck grins, turning back to the TV as the countdown for the race starts.

Mark is almost notoriously bad at the game, falling off the sides of the course three times before he’s even reached the midpoint. He groans, accepting Donghyuck’s teasing when it comes, and waits for his character to revive. “Will you be able to go to school?” 

“I’ll be getting crutches next week,” Donghyuck says, throwing himself around a sharp turn. His character crashes against the edge, losing a bit of speed. Donghyuck silently blames Mark for the dip in raking, since his turns are usually borderline perfect.

“Are you scared about going to middle school?” Mark asks at the end of the round.

“No.” Donghyuck taps on the forward button on his controller, like that will make the game load any faster. “Of course not, why?” He’s a bit sad that summer will be ending so soon, but he’s also excited to finally be in middle school, with its class changes and gym lockers.

“I was scared,” Mark says, his voice so serious that Donghyuck doesn’t feel the urge to tease him. “I was scared like the whole month.” 

Donghyuck looks at Mark, trying to formulate a reply. The earnestness on Mark’s face is usually an open invitation for Donghyuck to tease him until he cracks into a smile, but somehow, Donghyuck doesn’t feel that’d be appropriate here. The sound of the game starting on the TV shatters the silence, and Donghyuck pushes at Mark’s arm as he breaks their eye contact. “Frick, stop distracting me.” 

“Serious, though,” Mark says, as they finally take off from the starting line. “The eighth graders are really tall, and they’re sort of scary. And middle school’s a whole lot bigger. I can show you around the first day, if you want.” 

“Are they even taller than Taeyong?” Donghyuck says, ending his question with a yelp when his character trips over an obstacle on the course. Taeyong is mark’s older brother, and he isn’t scary at all. Just a lot older, so he never hangs out with them.

Mark pauses, seeming to consider this. “Not that tall. But Taeyong’s in high school.” 

Donghyuck almost teases Mark about this, but then Mark passes him up in the game and he remembers that it’s Mark’s birthday. “Stop talking, I’m trying to win!” 

“Your fault,” Mark says, jumping when Donghyuck pinches him in retaliation. 

They keep playing the game until Donghyuck’s mom knocks on the door. It’s fun, even if Mark keeps dying every chance he gets.

“Mark, it’s time for you to go back,” Donghyuck’s mom says. “You can come over some other day.” 

“Sure,” Mark says, getting up. “Thank you for having me over,” he says, polite as ever. He turns when he's halfway out the door. “Bye, Donghyuck.” 

Donghyuck waves, trying to hide his disappointment. His cheeks hurt a bit from laughing, and he turns the TV off and puts the remote controls away. Downstairs, he can hear his mom talking to Mark as she sees him to the door, and he watches through the window as Mark crosses the street back into his own home.


	4. Chapter 4

Donghyuck is twelve when he admits it out loud for the first time.

He, Jeno, Mark, Hendery, and Yangyang go roller skating together one Sunday afternoon. Hendery moved into the neighborhood a few weeks ago, his house the next street over and beside Yangyang’s. Both of them go to Catholic Middle with Jeno, while Donghyuck and Mark at the lab school. It’s interesting, Donghyuck thinks, how the kids in his class will call Catholic kids “snobby” and “stuck up” when the Cathloic students Donghyuck knows are anything but. They’re just incredibly silly.

“Loser has to buy everyone drinks!” Hendery calls, getting a head start as he switches into the fast lane.

“No fair!” Donghyuck screams after him. He makes eye contact with Yangyang, and a moment of silent understanding passes between them. Then they both chase Hendery, their collective screams louder even than the Christian rock music playing through the speakers. 

Hendery ends up losing the race, though he’s good humored about Donghyuck literally dragging him back while Yangyang skates past the unofficial finish line. He’s already purchased the drinks by the time Jeno guides Mark over the finish line. 

“Still having trouble?” Donghyuck asks Mark as the two of them walk over to their claimed table. It’s Mark’s first time roller skating, though he’s gone ice skating a few times before. Somehow, Mark is even worse at roller skating than ice skating. 

“Getting the hang of it,” Mark says shortly. It’s the tone he uses when Donghyuck’s teasing goes too far, but Donghyuck hadn’t even been teasing him.

Donghyuck sips on his lemonade and tries not to be bothered about Mark sitting next to Yangyang while Jeno takes the unoccupied seat next to him. He turns to Jeno as Mark, Yangyang, and Hendery laugh about something. “Hey, do you want to race around the rink?” 

“Now?” Jeno says, but he leaves his barely touched lemonade and follows Donghyuck. They’re sitting on the benches tying up their skates when Jeno turns to Donghycuk. “Hey, if I win, you have to tell me who you have a crush on.” When Donghyuck doesn’t respond, still finishing his knot, Jeno nudges him with his elbow, a hint of a whine in his voice. “Come on, I told you mine.” 

“I didn’t ask,” Donghyuck points out, finally finishing with the laces. Jeno’s crush had been someone from his school anyway, someone Donghyuck didn’t know and would probably never know. Still, it’s a _thing_ that seems to be going around all seventh graders lately: you tell me your crush and I’ll tell you mine. Donghyuck has been able to stay out of it for the most part, though everyone ends up knowing who likes who anyway. Besides, most people want to tell their friends. 

Jeno frowns, looking hurt, and Donghyuck immediately feels bad. He knows that Jeno wouldn’t tell anyone. Jeno is the best at keeping secrets; he’d never told anyone about Donghyuck biking over Mrs. Kim’s flowers, even if she knocked on everyone’s house to complain. And besides, they don’t even go to the same school.

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you if you win,” Donghyuck says, and Jeno’s frown gives way to a bright smile.

Jeno wins—of course he does. He’s one of the fastest skaters, be it on wood, concrete, or ice. He does a circle around Donghyuck as Donghyuck crosses the finish line. “Now you have to tell me!” 

“It’s Mark Lee,” Donghyuck says, not looking up as he takes off his skates.

Jeno gasps, leaning forward. “Seriously?” 

Donghyuck shrugs. “Why?” He’s nervous, he realizes, palms sweating and heart racing like he’s doing Countdown or like Mrs. Roberts has put him on the spot in front of everyone in the class. It’s really not that big of a deal; he likes Mark in the same way that he prefers M&Ms over Skittles, Snickers bars over Hershey’s. But somehow, being in seventh grade means that having a crush on someone is _the_ biggest news ever.

Still, Donghyuck has never told anyone before. It’s certainly spared him from the childish chants pairing two people, though he’s done his share of teasing other classmates.

“No, it’s just.” Jeno squints back at the table where the three other boys are seated. “He’s cute, I guess.” 

Donghyuck laughs, following Jeno back to the table. “He’s whatever,” he agrees.

Mark looks up as they sit down, Jeno taking Donghyuck’s old seat and Donghyuck taking the one across from Mark. “What are you guys laughing about?” 

Donghyuck sticks out his tongue, then drinks from Jeno’s lemonade to get back at him. “None of your business.” 

Mark stares down at the table, quiet, and Donghyuck bites back his irritation. Mark always dismisses _him_ like a child, especially when he’s with his older and cooler friends, but whenever it’s the other way around, Mark holds it against him. 

After they finish their lemonade and dare Yangyang to eat a handful of pickle chips, they head back to the rink.

And Donghyuck may be petty, but he isn’t cruel. So when he sees Mark skating a good distance away from the rails, skating and falling and getting up to try again, he goes over to Mark.

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that,” Donghyuck says, reaching out a hand to help Mark up when he falls again. Mark’s knees are already pink, and he’ll probably bruise tomorrow.

“I have to learn somehow.” Mark tries to pull his hand away from Donghyuck’s, but Donghyuck holds onto it tighter.

“I’ll show you. Just—slow down.” Donghyuck demonstrates the basic movements, especially how to go forward, since Mark keeps slipping back half a step for each step forward.

Eventually, Donghyuck shifts in front of Mark, taking his other hand as well. “Tell me if I bump into anyone, okay?” he says, skating backwards and pulling Mark with him.

Despite Mark’s assurances that he’ll watch out for both of them, Donghyuck keeps checking over his shoulder to make sure that they won’t crash into something. Still, it doesn’t save them from being attacked from behind by Hendery.

“Can I join?” he asks without really expecting an answer. Hendery places both his hands on Mark’s shoulders, pushing them along.

Soon enough, Jeno and Yangyang latch on behind Hendery, and then it’s all five of them skating around the rink as a unit. They’re being obnoxious and loud and they’re definitely going to crash. But as they round a sharp corner and Mark screams in laughter, Donghyuck just holds onto his hands tighter and keeps pulling them along. 

He’ll worry about the crash when it comes.


	5. Chapter 5

Donghyuck is thirteen when Mark gets his first girlfriend.

Since Mark started high school, Donghyuck has barely seen him at all. The first few weeks into the school year, Donghyuck knocks on Mark’s door Friday and Saturday afternoons to ask him if he wants to play outside. Mark declines each time, claiming that he’s “busy.” Then Donghyuck sees Lucas going into Mark’s house one afternoon, and he stops asking altogether.

The lab high school is a good fifteen minutes away from the middle school, so their carpooling arrangement ends as well. Donghyuck ends up taking the old yellow bus home instead, sitting on scalding seats in the lack of air conditioning. He spends the time poking holes into the back of the seat before him or playing games on his phone while ignoring the ruckus from the back of the bus.

Soon, it’s been nearly three months since Donghyuck has even talked to Mark. So perhaps it makes sense that Donghyuck learns that Mark’s dating someone through Taeyong’s Instagram, of all places.

Taeyong had captioned the post “ _winter formal_ ⛄,” and on the third of eight pictures, Donghyuck sees Mark with his arm around a girl’s waist. They’re both smiling into the camera, and Mark’s face and body language betray none of the teenage awkwardness that had all but seeped through every one of his actions in the last few years, especially around girls. Donghyuck stares at the picture for a good few seconds, taking in how nice Mark looks despite his ill-fitting suit and how pretty the girl looks in her shimmering red dress. Then, because no one can stop him, Donghyuck taps on the profiles that are tagged in the picture.

Mark has had his Instagram for over three years already, but it still has zero posts and no profile picture, although he has over 300 followers. He just has his full name (middle name included) and the name of his high school in his bio. Donghyuck wonders if Mark even knows how to use Instagram. Which is funny, since Taeyong’s account is probably the most active out of all those that Donghyuck is following.

Tapping on the other username brings Donghyuck to the profile of Yoojung Choi. The account is private, but the profile picture is telling enough. It’s a picture of Yoojung and Mark grinning into the camera, a solid indication that they’re official. A quick glance at the bio tells Donghyuck that Yoojung also goes to lab, and she’s in the same grade as Mark.

Donghyuck takes a screenshot of the profile and sends it to Jeno, following it with, _did you know about this?_

 _heard about it_ , Jeno replies almost instantly, then, _i’m at a swim meet now but i’ll call you later._

 _nah, it’s fine,_ Donghyuck texts, though he knows that Jeno will probably call anyway.

He turns off his phone so that he’s no longer staring at the low-res profile picture on Yoojung’s page. Really, the part about all this that hurts the most is that Mark hadn’t even told him about it. Heck, they’ve barely even talked since Mark had started high school.

At least Donghyuck had tried, but Mark seems almost eager to go on ignoring Donghyuck’s existence.

Donghyuck stares at his phone as the LED notification light blinks up at him, like it’s purposefully taunting him. If this were anyone else, Donghyuck would be spamming them with texts until they responded. But Mark probably doesn’t want to talk to him, and Donghyuck just can’t reach out _again_. 

So they don’t talk until the first weekend of winter break, and even then, it’s because Donghyuck’s family invited Mark’s family over for dinner.

“They’re just trying to get his secrets out of him,” Donghyuck whispers loudly to Mark, as both sets of parents gush over Taeyong. Just a few weeks ago, Taeyong had been accepted EA to Princeton and had since been hailed as _the_ example of success among neighborhood parents.

“I know,” Mark whispers back, but there’s a hint of pride as he looks at his older brother.

Other than the few sips of undiluted wine that Donghyuck is allowed to have, dinner is an almost painful affair. Donghyuck’s parents compliment Taeyong on his admission; Taeyong and his parents brush it off; Donghyuck’s mom expresses her desires that Donghyuck “grows up well”; Taeyong’s mom echoes with her own desires about Mark’s future. Then they ask Taeyong about his plans for the future, his activities in high school, and so forth.

Taeyong smiles and sits through it all, but Donghyuck is already fidgety halfway through the meal. He kicks Mark, who’s sitting across the table from him.

Mark shoots him a look over the bowl of soup raised to his lips, then kicks him right back. They play around under the table like that for a while, until Donghyuck miscalculates and kicks someone who is decidedly _not_ Mark.

Taeyong jumps, his fork clattering against the plate, but smiles and pretends that nothing happened. Mark glares at Donghyuck, who mouths, _It’s your fault_ , back at him.

Donghyuck almost screams in relief when he and Mark are excused from the table. Taeyong, though, gets roped into watching this week’s football game, and Donghyuck can’t say he envies him, not when he’s dragging Mark upstairs and into his mom’s study.

Donghyuck starts up both desktops, claiming the newer and marginally faster one. Mark sits down next to him, and they both pull up Minecraft. It occurs to Donghyuck, as he makes his way through the pixelated world, that although he’s brought Jeno and Jaemin here many times, Mark has never been here before. 

“What are you doing winter break?” Donghyuck asks, glancing over at Mark once he’s finished fixing up the windows to his house.

“Probably studying and hanging out with friends,” Mark answers distractedly. He breaks off into a string of curses when he stumbles upon a bunch of monsters, his fingers flying over the keyboard and mouse.

 _Friends that include Yoojung and not me?_ Donghyuck wants to ask. He doesn’t, though, since he knows he wouldn’t gain anything worthwhile from Mark’s answer to that question. “I didn’t know you had homework,” he says instead.

“I just—didn’t do that well on my PSATs.” Mark lets out a cry of frustration when he loses another life. Donghyuck laughs and turns back to his game; Mark has never been good at multitasking.

There are so many acronyms that come with growing up that Donghyuck can’t be bothered to remember. He knows, vaguely, that Taeyong had gotten a perfect score on the ACT. He also knows that the bulldozers they pass by on the highway have CAT written all over them. 

The sun has already risen in the game, so Donghyuck ventures out of his house again, turning his attention away from Mark’s side profile. “You never play with Jeno and me anymore,” he says, and his voice comes out softer than he’d expected over the click of their keyboards. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Donghyuck sees Mark turn around to face him, giving Donghyuck his full attention. At the same time, Mark’s character falls off the edge of a building, finishing off his last life. You died! flashes across the screen, but Mark doesn’t even seem to notice. 

“I’m sorry,” Mark says. There’s earnestness in his voice, but it’s also going to take him half a lifetime to come up with an excuse, so Donghyuck waves him off.

“It’s okay, I get it.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the complete truth either. “I heard you got a girlfriend, though.” 

He’s deflecting, but it does get Mark to turn back to the computer screen with a smile and respawn his character. “Yeah, she’s really cool,” Mark says, and Donghyuck is happy for him, but he’s also glad that Mark has no way of knowing the bitter aftertaste those words leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I actually spent a good few hours watching Youtube videos of people playing Minecraft for no real reason.


	6. Chapter 6

Donghyuck is fourteen when he meets Renjun for the first time.

Now that he and Mark are in the same school again, they’re back to their old carpooling routine. Which means that three days a week Donghyuck has to wait an hour or two after school while Mark goes to club meetings. It works out well, though, since Donghyuck spends that time in one of the music practice rooms in the art wing. The pianos there don’t look or sound nearly as nice as the baby grand he used to have, but just being able to play it again is gratifying.

For the first few weeks, Donghyuck claims the third practice room as his own and reacquaints himself with the instrument. As he’s running through his scales one day, a boy walks into the room.

“The orchestra has these rooms booked,” the boy tells Donghyuck, one hand on the doorknob and the other hand holding a violin case. “Did you also book a room?” 

Donghyuck blinks, making to get up. “No, I haven’t booked anything—” 

The boy lets the door close behind him and waves his hand, gesturing for Donghyuck to sit down. “It’s okay, sit down.” He sets his case flat on a chair but then walks over to Donghyuck. “You’re Donghyuck, right?” When Donghyuck looks up at him in surprise, he just laughs and sits next to him on the piano bench. “I’m Renjun. We’re in the same CS class.” 

Computer Science I is a relatively large class, and also one of the classes Donghyuck shares with Jaemin, who is a perpetual distraction. So Donghyuck isn’t surprised that he doesn’t recognize Renjun, but he is surprised that Renjun knows his name. “You take orchestra with Nam?” He’s heard legendary things about the man, a former conductor of the city’s symphony who had carried his fastidious tendencies into the high school walls. 

Renjun nods. “We have after school rehearsals tomorrow, so I was going to practice my solo part.” He leans forward to flip through the music Donghyuck’s laid out on the stand before him. Many of them are original scores that Dr. Greenway owns, and he lets Donghyuck borrow them. “Are you in piano?” 

“No, I just practice here after school.” When Renjun raises his eyebrows, Donghyuck finds the need to explain. “I carpool with Mark, and he has quiz bowl practice today.” 

“Mark Lee? The nerdy sophomore?” 

“He’s okay,” Donghyuck says, and knows he’s made a mistake when Renjun’s smile grows, almost razor sharp in its intensity. 

“You’re right, he’s pretty cute.” There’s laughter dancing in Renjun’s eyes, and Donghyuck is not used to being one-upped by someone so easily, especially someone he’s just met.

“I didn’t say that,” Donghyuck protests, but his face feels warm and he _knows_ that he’s blushing. Renjun looks ready to tease him more, so Donghyuck quickly changes the subject. “Don’t you have practice? I want to listen.” 

“Play a piece for me too,” Renjun says, getting up to open his case, and it’s a done deal.

There’s a fluidity in Renjun’s movements, even in the way he tightens and rosins his bow. He tunes the violin like he’s greeting an old friend, and Donghyuck knows before he even starts that he’ll be _good_. The small room that they’re in melts away as Renjun closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and begins to play.

 

Most Tuesdays and Thursdays, Renjun and Donghyuck will be in practice room three together. Sometimes, Renjun will be there first, having skipped his last class, block P.E., for an extra hour of practice. Other weeks, Donghyuck will have already finished warming up with scales and be working on his piece when Renjun bursts into the room. 

They become fast friends—which is expected, since Renjun is only the second person to know about MARK LEE, and he’d figured it out within minutes of talking to Donghyuck. It also helps that Renjun shares his passion for music. There are days when they’ll start off listening to the other play, then jump in with an improv that derails into dramatic flourishes and breathless laughter.

This Thursday, Renjun leaves the practice room with Donghyuck.

Donghyuck had invited Renjun to spend the night at his house. Last week, when he’d been complaining about his parents’ strict curfew, Renjun had divulged that he didn’t have a curfew at all.

“My parents get home later than I do.” Renjun shrugged, clearly having come to terms with the reality of having two parents who were doctors and owned their own clinic. “Once they got home before me and I almost got locked out of the house.” 

Renjun’s smile then had been tight, resigned. It’s a far cry from his laughter now, as Donghyuck chases him across the courtyard towards the carpooling area.

Donghyuck reaches out to grab Renjun by his backpack, but Renjun just manages to evade him with a sharp turn. It causes Donghyuck to all but crash into Mark, who’s standing by one of the pillars. Mark catches him before that can happen, holding Donghyuck by both arms as they both regain their balance.

“Be careful,” Mark says, and Donghyuck is close enough that he can see the furrow of his eyebrows.

“Sorry,” Donghyuck says, still breathless.

Renjun clears his throat, suddenly next to them, and Mark finally lets go. Donghyuck quickly takes a step back, not missing the look of amusement that Renjun sends him. “This is Renjun,” he tells Mark, adding, “I told you yesterday that he’ll be going home with us.” 

“Hey,” Mark says, his greeting decidedly less enthusiastic than Renjun’s. “My mom is already here, so.” 

Mark heads towards the car without looking back. Donghyuck and Renjun both get into the backseat, and Mark’s mom immediately pulls Renjun into a conversation, asking about his school year, interests, and so forth. Mark turns on the radio, and Donghyuck holds back a protest because it was _his_ turn to choose the channel today. 

After Mark’s mom and Renjun finish discussing the prevalence of snakes in their respective neighborhoods, Renjun leans in and whispers into Donghyuck’s ear. “You were really red.” 

Donghyuck immediately knows what Renjun is referring to. Rather than indulging him, he reaches up and messes with Renjun’s hair. It does the trick of getting Renjun to back away quickly, swatting Donghyuck’s hand away.

They’re already entering the neighborhood when Mark twists around in his seat to face both of them. “Aren’t you friends with Lucas?” 

“We’re cousins,” Renjun says, sitting up. “Weren’t you also at his birthday party last year?” 

“Yes!” Mark snaps his fingers, his eyes wide with excitement as he discovers that the world is smaller than expected. This is more typical Mark behavior, like the majority of the car ride spent playing on his phone was enough to break him out of his bad mood.

Mark’s mom pulls up halfway into Donghyuck’s driveway, and Donghyuck and Renjun get off with cheerful goodbyes and thankyous. Renjun walks backwards carefully, still watching the car. 

“Mark lives right across the street from you? That’s so close.” 

Donghyuck shrugs, turning Renjun back around so he doesn’t trip over anything. “I see him even less outside of school.” He drapes an arm over Renjun’s shoulders, falling in step with him. “So, do you want mango or pistachio ice cream?” 

“Don’t you have any other flavors?” 

“Looks like you’re not getting any ice cream!” Donghyuck taunts. This time, Renjun is the one chasing Donghyuck, until both of them reach the back door in breathless laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In memory of all the times that Mark has been jealous of Renhyuck.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mayangel70)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first chaptered NCT fic. I'm hoping to update it regularly.


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